Vision In White - By Nora Roberts Page 0,118

off the shelf. “I just wanted you to see this before you made a firm decision.”

“It’s beautiful, plus my favorite flowers. But it doesn’t seem, I don’t know, big enough.”

“With the lines of your dress, the column of the skirt and the beautiful beadwork on the bodice, the more contemporary bouquet could be stunning. I want you to have exactly what you want, Miranda. This sample is closer to what you have in mind.”

Emma took a cascade from the shelf.

“Oh, it’s like a garden!”

“Yes, it is. Let me show you a couple of photos.” She opened the folder on the counter, took out two.

“It’s my dress! With the bouquets.”

“My partner, Mac, is a whiz with Photoshop. These give you a good idea how each style looks with your dress. There’s no wrong choice. It’s your day, and every detail should be exactly what you want.”

“But you’re right, aren’t you?” Miranda studied both pictures. “The big one sort of, well, overwhelms the dress. But the other, it’s like it was made for it. It’s elegant, but it’s still romantic. It is romantic, isn’t it?”

“I think so. The lilies, with that blush of pink against the white roses, and the touches of pale green. The trail of the white ribbon, the glow of the pearls. I thought, if you liked it, we might do just the lilies for your attendants, maybe with a pink ribbon.”

“I think . . .” Miranda carried the sample bouquet over to the old-fashioned cheval glass that stood in the corner. Her smile bloomed like the flowers as she studied herself. “I think it looks like some really creative fairies made it. And I love it.”

Emma noted it down in her book. “I’m glad you do. We’ll work around that, sort of spiraling out from the bouquets. I’ll put clear vases on the head table, so the bouquets will not only stay fresh, but serve as part of the decor during the reception. Now for your tossing bouquet, I was thinking just the white roses, smaller scale like this.” Emma took down another sample. “Tied with pink and white ribbons.”

“That would be perfect. This is turning out to be so much easier than I thought.”

Pleased, Emma made another note. “The flowers are important, but they should also be fun. No wrong choices, remember. From everything you’ve told me, I see the feel of the wedding as modern romance.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m after.”

“Your niece, the flower girl, is five, right?”

“She just turned five last month. She’s really excited about scattering rose petals down the aisle.”

“I bet.” Emma crossed the idea of a pomander off her mental list. “We could use this style basket, covered with white satin, trimmed in baby roses, trailing the pink and white ribbons again. Pink and white rose petals. We could do a halo for her, pink and white baby roses again. Depending on her dress, and what you like, we can keep it simple, or we can trail ribbons down the back.”

“The ribbons, absolutely. She’s really girly. She’ll be thrilled.” Miranda took the sample halo Emma offered. “Oh, Emma. It’s like a little crown! Princessy.”

“Exactly.” When Miranda lifted it onto her own head, Emma laughed. “A girly five-year-old will be in heaven. And you’ll be her favorite aunt for life.”

“She’ll look so sweet. Yes, yes, to everything. Basket, halo, ribbons, roses, colors.”

“Great. You’re making it easy for me. Now you’ve got your mothers and your grandmothers. We could do corsages, wrist or pin-on, using the roses or the lilies or both. But—”

Smiling, Miranda set the halo down again. “Every time you say ‘but’ it turns out fantastic. So, but?”

“I thought we could update the classic tussy-mussy.”

“I have no idea what that is.”

“It’s a small bouquet, like this, carried in a little holder to keep the flowers fresh. We’d put display stands on the tables by their places, which would also dress up their tables, just a little more than the others. We’d use the lilies and roses, in miniature, but maybe reverse the colors. Pink roses, white lilies, those touches of pale green. Or if that didn’t go with their dresses, all white. Small, not quite delicate. I’d use something like this very simple silver one, nothing ornate. Then we could have them engraved with the wedding date, or your names, their names.”

“It’s like their own bouquets. Like a miniature of mine. Oh, my mother will . . .”

When Miranda’s eyes filled, Emma reached over and picked up the box of tissue she kept handy.

“Thanks. I want them. I have to think about the monogramming. I’d like to talk that over with Brian.”

“Plenty of time.”

“But I want them. The reverse, I think, because it makes them more theirs. I’m going to sit down here a minute.”

Emma went with her to the little seating area, put the tissue where Miranda could reach. “It’s going to be beautiful.”

“I know. I can see it. I can already see it, and we haven’t even started on the arrangements and centerpieces and, oh, everything else. But I can see it. I have to tell you something.”

“Sure.”

“My sister—my maid of honor? She really pushed for us to book Felfoot. It’s been the place in Greenwich, you know, and it is beautiful.”

“It’s gorgeous, and they always do a fabulous job.”

“But Brian and I just fell for this place. The look of it, the feel of it, the way the four of you work together. It felt right for us. Every time I come here, or meet with one of you, I know we were right. We’re going to have the most amazing wedding. Sorry,” she said, dabbing at her eyes again.

“Don’t be.” Emma took a tissue for herself. “I’m flattered, and nothing makes me happier than to have a bride sit here and cry happy tears. How about a glass of champagne to smooth things out before we start on the boutonnieres?”

“Seriously? Emmaline, if I wasn’t madly in love with Brian, I’d ask you to marry me.”

With a laugh, Emma rose. “I’ll be right back.”

LATER, EMMA SAW OFF HER EXCITED BRIDE AND, COMFORTABLY tired, settled down with a short pot of coffee in her office. Miranda was right, she thought as she keyed in all the details. She was going to have the most amazing wedding. An abundance of flowers, a contemporary look with romantic touches. Candles and the sheen and shimmer of ribbons and gauze. Pinks and whites with pops of bold blues and greens for contrast and interest. Sleek silver and clear glass for accents. Long lines, and the whimsy of fairy lights.

As she drafted out the itemized contract, she congratulated herself on a very productive day. And since she’d spent most of the next working on the arrangements for their mid-week evening event, she considered making it an early night.

She’d resist going over and seeing what Mrs. G. had for dinner, make herself a salad, maybe a little pasta. Curl up with a movie or her stack of magazines, call her mother. She could get everything done, have a relaxing evening, and be in bed by eleven.

As she proofed the contract, her phone let out the quick two rings that signaled her personal line. She glanced at the readout, smiled.

“Hi, Sam.”

“Hello, Beautiful. What are you doing home when you should be out with me?”

“I’m working.”

“It’s after six. Pack it in, honey. Adam and Vicki are having a party. We can go grab some dinner first. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

“Whoa, wait. I told Vicki tonight just wasn’t good for me. I was booked solid today, and still have about another hour before—”

“You’ve got to eat, right? And if you’ve been working all day you deserve to play. Come play with me.”

“That’s sweet, but—”

“Don’t make me go to the party by myself. We’ll swing by, have a drink, a couple laughs, leave whenever you want. Don’t break my heart, Emma.”

She cast her eyes up to the ceiling and saw her early night go up in smoke. “I can’t make dinner, but I could meet you there around eight.”

“I can pick you up at eight.”

Then angle to come in when you bring me home, she thought. And that’s not happening. “I’ll meet you. That way if I need to go and you’re having fun, you can stay.”

“If that’s the best I can get, I’ll take it. I’ll see you there.”